


Fire in Their Eyes

by bold_seer



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Ficlet, Fist Fights, M/M, Opposites Attract, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 07:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13477038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bold_seer/pseuds/bold_seer
Summary: Like some knight with slicked-back hair.





	Fire in Their Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laughingpineapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple/gifts).



It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Some yahoo takes one (1) look at Albert’s surly self and Chet’s clean-cut looks and makes the following assumptions, which are erroneous and myopic, but that’s people for you:

1\. Albert is spoiling for a fight. A physical altercation; boxing, mud wrestling, the whole shebang. Because that’s what you do, wear your second-best suit when you’re in for a brawl. Well.

2\. Special Agent Desmond is there as décor. Fit for a bureau poster - a model, not the real deal.

_Idiot._

To be fair, which he has no particular inclination to be, even Albert was surprised someone so cool and impassive could throw such a mean punch. For a second. Then he catches himself. Remembers he regularly deals with bodies (generally without any swinging fists). A glance at the exterior reveals the cause of death only a fraction of the time. Man’s more than his guts, but sometimes, that’s exactly what he is.

“Didn’t have to hit that bonehead,” he mutters. Disapprovingly, as befits his obstinate persona and lofty ideals. (Too lofty, he sometimes thinks.) Doesn’t say, _like some knight with slicked-back hair_.

Chet shrugs, sure he did, in his laconic way. Head tilted, vaguely amused but noncommittal nonsmile, eyes on Albert as if he sees something interesting there.

_Fool._

A rebel with a cause, Chet resembles James Dean, half a decade older. Only Albert isn’t Natalie Wood.

He looks down, away, anywhere else, when his gaze falls on Chet’s hands. The knuckles seem unharmed, but his left index finger has a mark on it, like a paper cut, a hint of red.

Chet sees him looking. Swipes his thumb over the drop of blood in an easy movement, and - it’s gone.


End file.
